Escape The Silence
by sockospice
Summary: There is one thing that Mickey Webb cannot stand, and that is silence. When solitude gets too much, who can help him see his way through? Eventual angst and slash.
1. Prologue

Title: Escape The Silence

Rating: eventually R

Disclaimer: All characters used are fictional and owned by the makers of The Bill. Used without permission and with no infringement intended.

Content: There will be all sorts. Definitely angst eventually though. And M/M relationships. So if you don't like slash, please consider this before embarking on this story.

"What're you still doing here?"

"You wanted these reports in yesterday didn't ya?" Mickey shrugged, avoiding the DCI's gaze, and continued typing.

"You've never cared about deadlines enough to stay late before though, and you've stayed late every night for the last few weeks, why?"

"You really wanna know?" Mickey stopped what he was doing and swung round in his chair, so that he was facing the DCI, who was leaning against the desk opposite.

"Wouldn't have asked...."

"Well I ain't got much to go home for at the moment have I?" Mickey spat, and turned away. He got up and walked over to the window, pretending to look through the blinds at the world going by. He expected Jack to say something, but instead there was silence. "I... I go home, watch tv, have a drink, go to bed. Ain't got no one to talk to, all me mates are getting married, having kids, ain't got the time or the energy to keep in touch. That scenario ain't ever gonna happen for me is it?"

Jack sighed, "I didn't realise it was getting you down so much."

"How do you manage it guv?" Mickey turned round to face his boss, "you've been on your own a while now, does the silence not do your head in?"

"Silence is a relief after this place," Jack laughed, "you get used to it Mickey."

"I don't want to get used to it."

"I know," Jack deliberated for a minute, and then motioned to the door, "come on, those reports can wait, let's go for a drink, I know I could do with one."

Mickey nodded mutely, shutting down the computer and grabbing his coat. "Thanks guv."


	2. Companionship

They'd spent many a night in The Seven Bells. The faces had changed, but the grim décor stayed the same, a comfortingly numb familiarity. Mickey had spent some of the best nights of his career in this place, celebrating good results and commiserating over bad ones. No matter what the outcome, the team had been together and trust had been there. It was difficult to understand how and why things had changed.

Mickey was suddenly uncomfortable. He knew the DCI would rather be at home in front of the tv than sat here with him. He'd always been able to talk to Jack but something this time was holding him back. It was something that he didn't even understand himself, never mind finding the words to explain it to the person he idolised more than any other. He fidgeted in his seat, drinking too quickly and playing with a beer mat rather than face talking about anything.

Jack picked up on Mickey's nerves and restlessness,"so why haven't you talked to me Mickey? If I'd have known you were feeling so down, maybe I could have helped."

Mickey took a long swig of his pint before answering, "cos it's stupid, innit. I mean, I ain't the only person on their own in the job, I know it wrecks relationships. Just... when have I even had a normal relationship, ya know? Liz, Mia... ya know, it's two years since me and Mia was over and I haven't even come close to seeing anyone else. And it ain't cos I don't get offers, cos I do. I just, don't... I ain't... I don't understand why, you know?"

"Do you miss her?"

"I don't miss her, I just miss having someone. It gets lonely, you know?"

Jack grimaced, "I know that feeling."

"Sorry guv. Anyway, ain't we got better things to talk about?" Mickey indicated to Jack's glass, feeling very vulnerable and uncomfortable at that moment, "another one eh?"

"Yeah, why not."

While Mickey was at the bar, Jack mused on their conversation. He knew there was a lot that Mickey wasn't telling him. They'd been through too much together and by now he could read the DC like an open book. But this time there was something he couldn't read, something about Mickey that seemed in a language he didn't understand. That worried Jack, as he knew how prone Mickey was to press the self destruct button when things got to him. He'd seen it a few times before, and managed to pull Mickey out of it one way or another. But this seemed something beyond his understanding.

When Mickey returned, Jack steered the conversation to more pleasant things, like football, old friends and office politics. It felt good just to chat and spend time with someone, especially when that someone was Mickey. The social side of the job had definitely waned in recent years – it used to be that you couldn't walk into The Seven Bells without seeing someone from the job in there. Now work nights out were the exception, not the rule. That was something else that concerned Jack when it came to his team, as keeping them sane was just as important as keeping them busy, and keeping them sane in what was a stressful and difficult job was a difficult business. Alcohol and socialising had always helped in the past.

"Do you ever hear from any of the old crowd?" Jack asked, reminiscing about an incident just after Mickey had started at Sun Hill.

"Duncan keeps in touch occasionally, he's doing well for himself. He said that last he heard Eva was still causing chaos at MIT, I dunno though guv, most people just drift away don't they? You call it a friendship but... it's just the job."

"Eva's guv'nor must have the patience of a saint," Jack laughed, "remember her and Debbie McAllister together? It was like bloody world war three every day."

"I thought they'd end up killing each other."

"Either that or I'd have bloody killed one of them."

"Or both," Mickey grinned. "We had a good team then."

"Aye, that we did. Good team now an' all."

"Yeah, but it ain't the same is it?"

"Course it isn't. Things... people change Mickey, you know that."

"I know. I've... I've had to change."

Jack waited, hoping that Mickey would expand on what he said, but the younger man seemed lost in a thought. It didn't look as if Mickey was heading for a good place, so he changed the subject again. "You still playing football?"

"Nah, bunch of kids playing now, I can't keep up."

"Thanks for making me feel ancient," the DCI laughed. "Speaking of which, I'd best call it a night after this one. Not as young as I used to be."

"Cheers for coming out with me guv, I appreciate it." Mickey had enjoyed the company. "Reckon we should do this more often."

"I reckon you're right." Jack downed the rest of his pint in one. "Night Mickey."

"Night guv." As Jack left, Mickey's mood darkened. He didn't know why, but suddenly the flat he was going back to seemed even more empty than it had when he'd left it that morning. There was a nagging feeling in his stomach that one part of him didn't quite understand, and another part of him didn't want to acknowledge or comprehend. All he knew for sure was that the silence tonight would be broken by a screaming voice in his head. Perhaps, if he turned the tv volume up loud enough, it would drown out his fears.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, muchly appreciated. The first installment was a prologue of sorts, generally my chapters get longer the further I get into the story. But as yet this is a new fandom and for once I have no clue where this story is going, although I will say that my theory is always expect the unexpected.


	3. A Job To Do

"Mickey, we've had a call from the City Rest Hotel, there's been a spate of thefts from the rooms, I want you down there, speak to the manager, Kezia, get a list of what's been stolen and when, get the CCTV and guest and employee lists."

Mickey nodded at the DCI and grabbed his coat, not even looking for Kezia, who quickly followed him. She ran to catch up and fell into step by his side.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing, alright? Everything's fine. Just had a late night, that's all."

"Another one? You're turning into a right party animal."

"Leave it, yeah?" Mickey slammed the car door shut behind him. He wasn't in the mood for questions. He wasn't in the mood for anything.

Kezia took the advice and kept her opinions to herself. She was worried about Mickey, he had been so different these last few months. Sometimes it was as if there was nothing wrong, he was the usual cheeky Essex boy he'd always been, but then at other times he'd been quiet, introverted, jumpy... Kezia couldn't put her finger on what it was. She held on tight, as Mickey was driving at breakneck speed. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, as the quicker they got to the hotel, the shorter the awkward silence would be.

Mickey recognised the hotel, although he couldn't quite place why, maybe he had investigated something there before. They walked to reception, showing their warrant cards.

"Right, you talk to the receptionist, get the CCTV and all the details, I'll see the manager."

Kezia nodded and turned to the receptionist. Mickey looked around the lobby, the place was definitely familiar.

"Mickey?"

He turned round at the familiar voice, "Carrie?"

"Nice to see you." In one way, it was. In another, it was a reminder that was like a punch in the stomach. "You're the manager here now?"

"Don't sound so surprised," she smiled proudly. "Come into my office, I'll give you all the information about the thefts that we have."

"Cheers," Mickey followed with the semblance of a smile on his face. Carrie Morgan was certainly doing well for herself, and that was good to see.

"Do you want a coffee?" As Mickey nodded she picked up the phone, "can you bring two coffees to my office please? Thanks Jane."

"So how long have the thefts been going on for?"

"Three weeks as far as I can tell. They've been nicking things like laptops and phones mostly, electrical stuff. Even hair straighteners," she laughed. "It's not good for business though, if we get a reputation for not being able to look after our guests' property. We've been reporting it but didn't particularly want a fuss – having the police around all the time isn't exactly good for business either."

"How are they getting into the rooms? Any sign of forced entry?"

"No, there's never any damage. It must be someone who's got a key, but there's always different staff on duty when the thefts happen. And I don't want to think any of the staff could do this, you know?"

"Yeah, but we are going to need staff lists, and also any employees who have left in the last six months. We'll need a list of guests too, for each night where a theft occurred."

"No problem, I'll have my assistant put all that together." Carrie quickly made another call.

"'My assistant', you really are doing well," Mickey smiled, "knew you would."

"Well it's thanks to you, you saved my skin a few times. So how are you doing Mickey? If you don't mind me saying, you look like shit."

"Thanks for that," Mickey couldn't bring himself to be offended, for two reasons. One, Carrie always said what she thought and engaged her mouth before her brain, and two, it was true. "To be honest, things ain't great at the moment, but hey, you get on with stuff, don't you." A part of Mickey really wanted to just blurt out everything that was in his head at that moment but now really wasn't the time, and he really didn't think he was ready anyway.

There was a knock on the door and a young girl popped her head around the door, "the information you asked for Miss Morgan." She held out a sheaf of papers, which Mickey stood up and took off her.

"Thanks for that. Look, we'd best get back, I'll keep you posted on investigations, ok?" The office felt stifling and his head had filled with thoughts that he didn't even want to acknowledge.

"Thanks Mickey, it's appreciated. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

"Yeah, you too. I'll be in touch."

Mickey met back up with Kezia in the lobby, who was now laden down with dvds.

"Here, let me give you a hand."

As they walked out to the car Kezia's natural curiosity got the better of her, "you know the manager then?"

"Yeah, she was a witness in a case I worked on once," Mickey replied, his tone short. "All this is going to take us hours to work through, cross referencing names, staff, guests, all that CCTV... best get a move on eh?"

"Yeah, lets get back to the station and make a start." Much as Kezia wanted to push it further, she knew Mickey well enough to know now was not the time or the place.

After another awkwardly silent drive back to the station, they got to work, sorting through names and dates and videos. At first, no patterns emerged: there were different staff on duty at the times of each theft and there was no CCTV of the entrance halls to the rooms, just the lobby on each floor. Whoever it was, clearly they knew the layout of the hotel very well.

"I think we need to look at where these goods are being passed on to, cos I can't see a pattern here at all. Have a phone around all the local pawn shops yeah? I'm gonna check out other hotels in the area, see if any other places have had the same problem."

Kezia nodded her agreement, extremely grateful to have the opportunity to take her now tired eyes off the tv screen for a while. She grabbed the phone and started off on a list of numbers that she could probably dial in her sleep, the local pawnbrokers who always pleaded honesty until a little bit of pressure was applied. She didn't know why they bothered going through the whole charade, but inevitably, they did.

Mickey's line of enquiry went nowhere, but Kezia's led to something interesting. Three shops confirmed that they had recently been receiving a number of electrical goods that were similar in description to the ones stolen from the hotel. About five or six names came up regularly as the sellers of the items, and all of those names were well known to Sun Hill. After that, the job suddenly became a whole lot easier. Cross-referencing their known associates with the list of staff brought up a couple of names, who turned out to be receptionists at the hotel.

Mickey got back to work checking the CCTV from the reception, and sure enough, one of those receptionists was on duty during each theft and around the time of each theft, one of the lads who had previously been named by the pawn shops was seen apparently 'checking in' to the hotel. It wasn't conclusive proof, but it was enough for Mickey and Kezia to take to the DCI.

He listened to their theory, agreeing that it was the most likely scenario. Kezia suggested that a sting operation in the hotel might work, but Mickey disagreed.

"Staff saw us in reception this morning guv, they wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything while we're investigating. I say we go down the pawn shop, pick up whatever stolen property we identify, nick the lads selling, and lean on them. We'll be able to do them for handling and at least one of them will roll over I'm sure."

"Ok, go with that. Keep me posted." Jack nodded his dismissal to Kezia, "Mickey, can I have a word?"

"You go get the car, I'll catch you up, yeah?" Mickey forced a smile at Kezia, "won't be long."

Once she'd gone Mickey looked at Jack somewhat defiantly, "yes guv?"

"You alright Mickey? After last night?" There was a gentle concern in Jack's voice – he'd noted how rough Mickey had looked that morning and knew it wasn't because of a hangover.

"Yeah. Just ain't sleeping too well. I'm fine though. Thanks for last night. We'll do it again soon yeah?" Mickey just wanted to get away from his boss, he felt uncomfortable although he didn't know why.

He left quickly, before Jack could ask any more unsettling questions. There was a job to finish.

A/N: thanks again for the reviews. Much appreciated.


	4. Got a Result

It was a coincidence and a pure stroke of luck that the second lad they pulled in over the thefts was on licence and therefore extremely willing to be cooperative in terms of giving a statement and providing information about when he was due to hand over the ill-gotten proceeds to the two receptionists. He was more than quick to agree to hand over the cash while wired up and talk a confession out of them, and the loquacious organisers were so proud of their own intelligence in organising such a scheme they were recorded describing their planning and success in great detail, thus saving Mickey and Kezia a long and arduous no comment interview. The receptionists could do nothing but confess once in custody. It was a job well done.

"We did well today, you coming for a celebratory drink Mickey?" Kezia was already half way out the door, Mickey didn't usually need much persuading to end the shift in the Seven Bells.

"Nah, got stuff to do tonight thanks Kez, see you tomorrow yeah?" The last thing the DC wanted was to spend the evening making small talk with his colleagues, even though he'd not long ago bemoaned the lack of socialising on the team. All he wanted to do was sleep, if that precious gift would come to him that evening. Every time he closed his eyes that voice was there, the pain in his head and his heart that wouldn't go away.

"Night Mickey, take care of yourself." She didn't know why she said that, but Kezia was worried about her colleague. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that Mickey was close to breaking point.

He tried to block everything out, staring at the computer and trying to get the notes written up from that day's activity. There was something nagging at the back of his mind and it didn't seem to want to go away.

"Mickey, good work today," the DCI came out of his office, ready to call it a night. "You going home?"

"Yeah I'm going in a few minutes guv," he replied, a decision forming in his mind. "Gonna drop in to the hotel on the way home, let the manager know we've arrested a couple of her staff." He didn't really know why, but Mickey didn't want to say who the manager was. He knew Jack would remember her: he'd warned Mickey about getting too close a few times before now.

"Ok, and then you go home and get a good night's sleep," Jack smiled sympathetically, "and that's an order DC Webb."

They both laughed, "yes guv. Night."

As soon as Jack had gone, Mickey got on the phone. He was glad when it was confirmed that Carrie was still at work.

"Hiya it's Mickey, listen I've got some news for you about the thefts, can I come over to the hotel now and explain what's happened?... yeah ok... about 20 minutes?... see you then."

Now Mickey knew he could have passed on the information over the phone, but the same feeling that had given him a kick in the stomach made him want to see Carrie again. He didn't even know if she'd want to talk to him, but he felt like Carrie was a link to something he didn't know how to understand.

Rush hour traffic was the bane of Mickey's life, and this evening it gave him more of a chance to think, and the more he thought the more he realised he had no clue what he was doing. Carrie had clearly moved on in her life – she'd been through as much, if not more, than Mickey had. She seemed so together. He was proud of her.

Carrie must have been looking out for him, because she was waiting in reception when he walked in. "Mickey," she called him over and enveloped him in a hug. He was startled but hugged her back with affection.

"Carrie, can we talk?"

"Sure," she motioned to her office. "Do you want a drink?"

He shook his head and followed her into the office, taking the offered seat. "Carrie, we've arrested the two ringleaders, Michael Rose and Jason Kirk."

"My staff? I can't believe it." Carrie looked genuinely upset. "I trusted them, how could they? How did they do it?"

"They had a group of lads they used, they'd come and pretend to check in and Rose or Kirk would hand over a key and a room number of someone they knew had valuables with them. The lads would sell on the goods and gave the profits back to Rose and Kirk."

"I... how could they? I trusted them. I'm clearly not a very good manager if something like this is going on under my nose am I? I knew I wasn't cut out for this. I should never have taken this poxy job, I knew it was too good to be true."

"Hey, hey, stop this. They let you down, it doesn't mean you've done anything wrong."

"I only got this job a couple of months ago. Elaine left, her husband took early retirement, she's moved to Spain. I thought I could do it, but the staff obviously don't take me seriously." She sighed bitterly and put her head in her hands, "I really thought I could give it a go."

"Don't you give up Carrie Morgan. I know you better than that."

Carrie smiled ruefully, "you always had faith in me Mickey, I don't understand why though. It's not as if I haven't screwed up enough times before. I wouldn't even have this job if it wasn't for you."

"Shut up, you kept your job here cos you impressed Elaine, remember? You ain't gonna give up are you?"

"I guess not."

"Good," Mickey felt like if Carrie gave up, then so would he.

He looked around the office, there wasn't much by way of Carrie's personality on it yet, just shelves full of files. Yet she looked at home there, like she was made for the job.

"What is it Mickey?" She knew there was something more – he could have told her about the staff members being arrested over the phone.

"I don't know. Things ain't really making much sense to me at the moment Carrie."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I... I dunno."

"I'll tell you what, I'll get us a bottle of wine, I know I could do with a drink."

He nodded, pathetically grateful for the kindness. When she returned, he wasn't any closer to knowing where to start or what to say, so he figured avoiding talking about himself would be the best place to start.

"Things have been on the up for you then? You're looking really well Carrie."

"Yeah, well after the last time you saw me, Elaine gave me a second chance and, well I ended up as assistant manager. Then she left... and here I am."

"Working hard then. I'm dead pleased for you Carrie, honestly I am."

"How about you then Mickey, you still with that girl, what was her name, Mia?"

"Nah," he forced a smile, "split up a few years back, she... she slept with my boss."

"Bloody hell, that's crap, that is."

"Yeah, crap's one word for it. Been two years now since it ended."

"No one since?"

"Nah. I don't think I'm cut out for a relationship to be honest with you. One way or the other I screw it up."

"God tell me about it. I just keep on working." Carrie looked around the room, "guess that's how I ended up here."

They fell into a companionable silence. Silence usually scared Mickey, because that was when the voices and feelings shouted the loudest, but there was something about this situation that made the fear ebb away.

"Why are you so unhappy Mickey?" Carrie asked suddenly. She couldn't understand it. The man had always had a haunted, tormented air, Carrie had sensed right from when she first met him that he was lost, but he'd never told her why. She'd never known what to ask, and had always been looking for help from him rather than trying to give something back to the man who had help her, and believed in her.

"How long have you got?" He tried to laugh, but the sound was devoid of mirth, echoing around the room as if he was directing it at his own pathetic self.

"You can talk to me you know," She looked at him with affection in her blue eyes, "look, I know I'm not a mate or anything but you've done so much for me in the past, and you're a good guy, and... if I can do anything... anything, you know that yeah?" He understood the implication in her words.

"Thanks Carrie. I just... I wish I knew myself, you know?" He looked down at his hands, still no closer to answers. "I'd better go." He stood up, and placed a gentle kiss on Carrie's cheek.

"Take care Mickey. And keep in touch, yeah?"

"Will do. Take care of yourself."

As Mickey walked out of the hotel, he wondered if he was walking away from the answers. He didn't even know what the questions were, but he felt like the answers lay with someone who understood his past, and there were few people who could really do that. Whether Carrie was one of them, he had no idea.


	5. Oblivion

A few years ago he'd probably have taken Carrie up on her offer, but now, the thought repulsed him. It wasn't Carrie that repulsed him, but the thought of getting close to someone, close to her. And yet, it was when he was alone that the world seemed too difficult to cope with. Mickey didn't want to be alone, he needed someone with him.

It was the company that he craved that truly scared him.

Dreams had plagued him for as long as he could remember now, which was why he tried not to sleep. Images mixed in his mind that almost thrilled him and almost destroyed him. He didn't want to confront the root of his demons no matter how close they came to killing him, and there was one reason for that. Mickey knew that to say that reason out loud, to acknowledge its existence, would make it real.

He didn't want it to be real.

Solace came in a bottle of wine, as it often did. Temporary, but places where solace could be found were so rare that Mickey took them where he could find them. More and more frequently, solace was not at the bottom of the first bottle, and often now not the second either. Drunken oblivion was an increasingly acceptable alternative. It helped him escape from real life, but then the next morning it made real life look so much worse.

Studiously watching from his office, Jack recognised Mickey's downward spiral. He didn't know what else to do, he'd held out a hand of friendship and hoped that Mickey would approach him to talk about whatever was wrong. As yet there had been no acceptance of the offer, but Jack continued to hope.

"You're worried about him ain't ya?"

Jack heard the words before he heard the knock at his door. He looked up to see Smithy shutting the door behind him.

"Smithy, what can I do for you?" Jack was perturbed that his thoughts were that obvious.

"You are, ain't ya? To tell you the truth guv, I am too."

The DCI sighed, "sit down."

Smithy took the offered chair, "I had a missed call from him the other night, late it was. Called back and he said he hadn't called me. Sounded like he was absolutely off his face."

"He's drinking too much."

"What are we gonna do?" Smithy's practical side came to the fore, "he obviously needs to speak to someone. Do you think it's something to do with Delaney?"

"I dunno. I thought he'd put all that behind him but I can't tell what's going on in his head."

"Well he can't carry on like this, it's gonna kill him unless he can sort out whatever it is that's doing his head in."

Jack nodded sadly, "I can't see him fall apart, not again."

Smithy didn't need to say anything else. He, more than anyone else at Sun Hill, knew the history and depth of the relationship between Mickey and the DCI. He also knew it must be something really bad if Mickey couldn't confide in his closest friend. The last time Mickey had closed in on himself, the last time that something had been so bad he couldn't even confide in Jack, had been after one of the most horrible incidents that Smithy could remember happening at Sun Hill. Smithy just hoped to god that nothing like that had happened to Mickey again. Because if it had, he couldn't see any way back for the DC.

Mickey immersed himself in his work. Pretended not to see the DCI watching him. Got on with typing up the reports for his most recent successes. He laughed bitterly to himself, acknowledging that his current mood at least meant that he was getting more results than he had in ages. They were all nothing cases though, as if Jack didn't trust him with anything serious. That hurt too, although he completely understood why he was doing it. Mickey didn't think he'd trust himself if he was in charge either. But he appreciated Jack for not pushing, for keeping faith in him despite everything.

He appreciated Jack.

"Mickey, I've just had a call about the assault on the Maycroft, we've got a potential witness," Jo was half way out of the office already, hardly stopping to grab her coat on the way, "coming?"

"Yeah." Anything to get away from that sympathetic gaze. He ran after Jo, soon catching up and forcing some cheap and easy banter to distract himself and her from his mood. That woman was a good detective, too good at times, and he didn't want he picking up on his distress. It felt good to pretend to be someone else, to forget for a brief time.

The potential witness turned out to have some very interesting information. Jo was delighted with what transpired over the next hour or so – a good arrest and the discovery of the handbag that had been stolen during the assault. Mickey enjoyed the thrill of the arrest. It was why he loved this job. It reminded him that despite everything that he had lost, he still had one thing in his life that made him happy.

The high never lasted for long though. Smithy on the custody desk put paid to that. As Jo booked in the guy they'd arrested, Mickey tried to avoid both conversation and eye contact, something that was painfully obvious to Smithy, and to Jo, who looked at Smithy with a questioning gaze, not understanding the change in Mickey's demeanour. Smithy just shrugged and turned away, hoping that Mickey would realise that he'd never break a confidence unless he felt he had to.

Mickey didn't acknowledge the gesture. His high dissipated far too quickly and he metaphorically collapsed into himself, now awaiting the end of the shift so he could seek oblivion again. He arranged for an interview room and was very pleased to hear that the man they arrested had waived his right to legal representation so they could get started quickly. All he wanted was a quick confession.

It took a small amount of persuasion but that confession was eventually extracted. Jo kindly volunteered to write things up, as she could see that Mickey was getting frustrated and that there was something else in his demeanour that said that he just didn't want to be in that room or in the station any longer. Returning the prisoner to custody she couldn't resist asking Smithy what was going on.

"Have you had a row with Mickey or something?"

"Yeah, it's nothing much though," Smithy wanted to protect Mickey from the Sun Hill rumour mill. Not that he didn't trust Jo, but walls had ears and he didn't want people speculating on Mickey's moods, "just something and nothing about a girl he met."

"Well sort it out will ya, he was a pain in the arse in that interview," Jo didn't believe Smithy but knew not to push it. "He's gone home anyway, I've volunteered for paperwork, I must be mad. Anyway, this one can be bailed to appear in court. Cheers Smithy."

"Ta Jo." Smithy's mind had firmed about what he was going to do tonight. It was time he tried to get to the bottom of Mickey's troubles, one way or another.

A/N: Thank you especially to Webbswoman for the supportive reviews. I finally know where I'm going with this so that's a good thing. Have got a couple of possible one shots in mind possibly to be based on episodes to be shown in a couple of weeks time (if the spoilers are anything to go by, the source material is good).


	6. Tell no one

Mickey hoped that if he ignored the hammering on his front door, then the person there might go away. He didn't want to buy double glazing, donate to charity or convert to a religion that would offer no more solace than the one he'd already forsaken. All he wanted to do was sit and slowly drink himself to sleep, and the inconsiderate person at the door was stopping him doing that.

"What?" Mickey flung the door open with an undisguised irritation on his face.

"Hello to you too. Now you gonna let me in?"

"What you doing here Smithy?" Mickey slumped against the wall and allowed his colleague to walk past him into the kitchen, where he proceeded to throw a large selection of beers and a couple of bottles of wine into the fridge.

"I didn't know what you'd be drinking so I brought both," he said by way of explanation for the large amount of alcohol. Seeing Mickey had already made his way about halfway through a bottle of white wine, he decided to go for the beer and opened a can. "Gonna offer me a seat?"

Mickey nodded in the direction of the living room and followed Smithy, sitting opposite him, both bemused and uncomfortable, "what you doing here?"

"Thought it was about time we had a catch up," Smithy shrugged.

"Yeah right. You been talking to Meadows?" Mickey felt like he was on the defensive, like Smithy already knew what was going on his head and was just waiting for his knowledge to be confirmed.

"No? Mickey, we're mates, and I fancied a drink, that's it," Smithy took a long swig from his can and sat back, "so you been to the football recently?"

Mickey started to relax. He knew Smithy had an ulterior motive for being there and weirdly that didn't bother him as much as it might have done. He enjoyed the company, it being a welcome distraction on what would otherwise have been a dark and lonely evening. The conversation was light, not touching on anything of substance, in fact Smithy seemed to be studiously avoiding anything that might upset or concern Mickey.

Mickey was getting progressively more drunk, and hardly noticed that Smithy was not meeting his drinking pace. Smithy knew that eventually he would steer the conversation around to the real point of his visit, and he needed to be at least slightly sober in order to do that. However, the turn of conversation came sooner than he expected, and left Smithy a little more than surprised at the direction that was taken.

"But surely the DCI's not long off retirement, you'd think? He's had a tough time over the last few years ain't he?" Smithy was, although he'd never admit it, a bit of a gossip on the sly and he'd been filling Mickey in on who had been applying for what job within the Met.

The laughter drained from Mickey's face, and he looked almost distraught at that thought. "He wouldn't, not yet. He... he can't."

"You're right, be a while before he's going anywhere," Smithy was quick to backtrack, worried at the sudden change in his friend's demeanour. "You alright mate?"

"What do you think?"

"I think something's going on and you ain't telling anyone what's wrong, that's what I think." Smithy set his beer down on the table. "I think you phoned me the other week cos you wanted to talk about whatever it is but then you lost your bottle."

"I ain't lost my bottle."

"So talk to me."

"There's nothing wrong, alright?" Mickey's body language betrayed him as he sank back into the sofa, "I'm fine."

"So that's why you're getting pissed every night is it?" Smithy was grateful that he hadn't matched Mickey's drinking pace, as this was getting more like an interview under caution with every question.

"So what if I am?"

"You ain't happy." It wasn't even a question, and the bold statement made Mickey draw a shaky breath as he waited for Smithy to continue. "I can see it, the DCI can see it. Half the bleeding nick can see it."

"What did he say about me?"

"Who?"

Mickey swallowed nervously, "Jack. You've obviously been talking about me with him, what did he say?"

"He's worried about you."

"Was that it?"

"What do you want him to say Mickey?" Smithy truly felt like he was in work mode now, pushing Mickey to get the answers he needed.

"I don't know, right?" He stood up with some uncertainty, "you should go."

"I ain't going nowhere until you talk to me."

"Get out," there was an increased anger and fear in Mickey's voice, "just go Smithy." When the sergeant showed no inclination to do so, Mickey lunged towards him. "Get out!"

As Mickey was drunk, it was easy for Smithy to evade him and quickly turn the situation, grabbing Mickey and pushing him up against the wall, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

"You interfering in my life is what's wrong, why can't you leave things alone? Get the hell off me."

"Tell me what's going on."

"I can't."

"You won't, you mean."

"No, I can't."

"Mickey, there is nothing you could say that would shock me."

"No?" A rueful sneer crossed Mickey's face, "how about this then? I got raped a few years back, but for the last few months all I can think about is how it would feel to have sex with another man. And not just any other man, right?"

Smithy loosened his grip on Mickey as he digested the revelation, but the detective made no effort to move away. Quickly Smithy filled in the gaps between what Mickey had told him and what he already suspected, "the DCI. But he ain't gay Mickey."

"And neither am I, right?" Mickey took advantage of Smithy's shock to turn the tables and push him against the wall, holding him by the throat. "Right?"

"But..."

"It ain't ever gonna happen though, and this conversation never happened, right? I'm dealing with it, so you just keep your mouth shut, ok?"

"But you ain't dealing with it," Smithy was even more concerned now, as this was something that he hadn't anticipated and therefore he had no idea what to do.

"This conversation never happened. Promise me you ain't gonna say anything."

"But..."

Mickey tightened his grip on Smithy's throat, "you say nothing. Promise me."

"Alright. I won't say anything," he breathed a sigh of relief as Mickey let go of him, "but you need to get help mate, this ain't gonna just go away is it?"

"I'll deal with it," Mickey became quiet and withdrawn again, "just go now will you?"

Smithy acquiesced to this request, and quickly left, now even more unsure about what to do. He knew what it was that was worrying Mickey, but it was probably the one dilemma that he had no idea how to handle. He knew that sleep would not come easy that night, as he worried about what to do next, because the one thing that he did know was that Mickey couldn't deal with it on his own.

Mickey searched for his solace in the bottom of another bottle, but no peace was to be found. He felt even more vulnerable now, knowing that Smithy had betrayed his trust once before. He could only hope that Smithy would keep to his word.

Thanks for the reviews again!


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